


One Beck, Two Beck, Not to Mention Baby Beck

by raspberriesnchocolate



Series: Quentony AUs [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Good Quentin Beck, Hero Quentin Beck, M/M, Mutual Pining, Protective Quentin Beck, Quentin has a twin, Quentin's twin has a baby, Quentony, Starkbeck, idk man, so Uncle Quentin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21585613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberriesnchocolate/pseuds/raspberriesnchocolate
Summary: Quentin's twin brother is coming home to visit, along with a surprise that Quentin really should've seen coming.When Tony takes a liking (like, a HUGE liking) to Quentin's twin, Quentin realizes he needs to fight for his title of Best Beck.-also this is a spin-off of my other Quentin fics, Accidental Hero and Queer Eye: Quentin Beck edition. please read those before reading this, it might be confusing if you don’t!This is an idea that me and a friend came up with. It's indulgent to us, but I'm posting it just in case y'all want to check it out.
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Tony Stark
Series: Quentony AUs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555720
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	1. Mr. Quincy Beck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maruru (MaruruShipsIt)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaruruShipsIt/gifts).



  
  


“You look exceptionally sour today, Q.” Tony observed, listening to Quentin crunch on a lollipop with a wince.

Quentin’s eyes flickered to him for a minute before moving back to the tablet in his hands.

“I have good reason.” He said simply, continuing to ruin his teeth.

Tony waited impatiently for Quentin to finish, huffing when the man stayed silent, save for the crunching sounds.

“Are you gonna leave me hanging, or are you gonna spill the beans?” Tony waved his hand in front of the screen, blocking Quentin’s vision and earning an annoyed sigh for his efforts.

“My brother is in town,” Quentin admitted slowly, like the words were unpleasant on his tongue.

“You have a brother?” Tony asked curiously. Quentin sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. Tony felt his grin widen at the man, finding it utterly adorable how his eyes screwed shut in annoyance.

“I do. He doesn't have a place to stay, and _insists_ on staying with me instead of at our parents’ home.” Tony snorted, patting Quentin’s head before his hand could be batted away.

“Aw, I’m sure he’s not _that_ bad. Your mom’s way too nice to have a bad kid.”

Tony internally cheered when the deep set of Quentin’s brows lightened up a little at the mention of his mother.

“It’s not that he’s bad, per se, it’s- he’s not very… We clash quite a lot.”

Tony hummed, mind whirring with thoughts of an older looking Quentin who was even stricter, an obnoxious voice harassing the man.

“Sounds tough.”

Quentin huffed a bit, shoving Tony off of the desk he was perched on. “The least you could do is pretend to be sympathetic.” As annoyed as he tried to sound, Tony knew the difference, the tiny quirk of his lips betraying his amusement.

Tony laughed uproariously, heart light with the knowledge that Quentin trusted him enough to reveal more of his personal life.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Quentin tapped his foot impatiently, wondering where Quincy had gotten to. His twin was supposed to arrive at least twenty minutes prior, and the crowds of the airport were starting to grate on Quentin’s nerves.

“Tin-Tin!” Quentin felt a growl in the back of his throat, whirling around to shoot a glare at his twin. The man looked different from when he had moved away.

Quincy’s hair wasn’t neat, with a heavy dusting of stubble, far more unkempt than Quentin’s own. He had a smattering of freckles from the sun decorating his nose and cheeks, and was more tan than Quentin would ever be.

Quentin couldn’t help but wonder what his parents would think of Quincy’s outfit. The man wore a simple button up shirt, unbuttoned enough to show tanned skin and chest hair. Quentin sourly recalled the middle school days when Quincy had started growing hair while Quentin stayed smooth.

Abruptly, he noticed that Quincy was holding something.

“Where did you get _that?”_

Quentin couldn’t believe his eyes, staring down at the fussy baby in Quincy’s arms.

Quincy frowned and stuck his tongue out. “Where do you think? She’s mine,” he said possessively. Quentin peered down at the baby, taking in the watery eyes and trembling lip, the tiny displeased whines and huffs.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you had a baby? Where’s the-“ Quentin looked up at Quincy, looking back down.

“She didn’t want her, so she’s staying with me, thank god.” Quincy looked up from the baby, reaching out to flick Quentin on the nose.

“Oh, mein bruder, you don’t look happy to see me.” The older of the two squinted at him, amused. “You don’t look happy at all.”

Quentin huffed, taking the other bag in hand, since his brother was content to lug it with a slouched posture. “I’m just surprised.” 

“Aren’t _you_ strong?” Quincy teased, playfully punching Quentin’s shoulder with his free hand. Quentin let a wry grin grow on his face.

“You have to be unless you want your fingers crushed,” He huffed, thinking to the instances where Tony underestimated how heavy something was, leaving Quentin to patch up bruised fingers and soothe bruised egos. Quentin had no idea how the man hadn’t died yet, with how bad his self-preservation was.

Quincy looked astonished at his dry humor. The Quentin he knew _never_ cracked jokes or even reacted to them.

“Does your kid-” wasn’t _that_ weird? “Need a carseat?”

Quincy nodded, moving to a contraption tied to his luggage. 

“Here, hold her for a second-”

“-I don’t want to-”

Quentin found himself with an armful of baby. 

He fell silent, as did she. Her sniffles died out and she reached for Quentin’s face.

She was small. Everything about her was small, Quentin realized.

He tentatively dipped his head, eyes widening when she clumsily ran her (incredibly small) hand over his chin with a happy gurgle.

He carefully outstretched a finger towards her, feeling something warm up in his chest when she took her whole hand and grabbed it with stubby little fingers.

Quentin breathed out in surprise at her grip. She was strong.

“Hello,” He murmured lowly, not wanting Quincy to hear him. His voice was softer, and he carefully ran a finger along her plump cheeks. She was soft.

“I’m Quentin,” He hummed, gently brushing back her wisps of hair. Dark, like his own and his mother’s. She had very long eyelashes for a baby, or did babies always have long eyelashes?

The baby didn’t answer, happily babbling away while gripping random parts of his sweater, delighted by the softness of the fabric.

“I suppose I’m your uncle, then. Onkel. That’s me.”

She didn’t call him uncle or onkel, choosing instead to try and gnaw on his sweater. Quentin blinked, prying it away from her mouth. “No, you can’t do that, that’s not sanitary,” he scolded gently.

She resisted with a stream of indecipherable chatter, tugging it back.

“Quincy, get your baby to stop trying to eat my sweater,” Quentin finally looked up to see that Quincy had been watching him interact with the child with fascination and no small amount of awe.

“Let me set this up in your car. Let her eat it, she doesn’t have all her teeth so your sweater’ll probably be fine. Say, that’s a good sweater, where’d you get it?”

“It was a gift,” Quentin sighed, acquiescing to the baby’s grip. She blew a raspberry in triumph, happily gnawing on his sweater.

“I hope you’re enjoying that,” He murmured to her, she blinked innocent blue eyes at him in response.

Quentin shouldn’t have been surprised how a smile twitched at his lips down at her.

  
  
  


“So what do you do for fun around here? Haven’t been around since we were itty bitty Becks.” Quincy asked once they were in the car.

Quentin frowned. “I don’t want to play tourist with you, Quincy. I have work.”

Quincy made an ‘ah’ sound. “The Stark job, right? The one you got those fancy degrees for?”

Quentin nodded, squinting through the mirror at his brother, surprised that Quincy remembered. “Yes, that job.”

Quincy wrinkled his nose. “So you’re stuck in a lab for the majority of the week? Knowing you, you just stay home when you’re not at work, right?”

Quentin bit the inside of his cheek, trying to suppress the wince that threatened to break free, thoughts on the times Tony dragged him out for drinks.

Quincy took his silence as a confirmation. “I guess I’ll have to explore by myself. Just a lonely Beck boy out on the town, without his own brother to show him around.”

Quentin shot an annoyed glare at him. “You grew up here. Surely your memory hasn’t deteriorated _that_ badly?”

Quincy groaned, sliding down in his seat, leading his daughter to squeal when he popped back into her vision. “God, lighten _up,_ Tin-Tin. Must you be so eloquent all the time?”

Quentin gripped the steering wheel tighter. His eloquence was a result of grasping English the hard way, not taking to the confusing language as easily as Quincy.

“How else am I going to get the point across? Especially to someone as dense as you…” He muttered the last bit, flinching when Quincy erupted in surprised laughter.

“Dense as I am, at least I’m not blind!” The man mimed pushing glasses up, squinting at Quentin through his fingers.

“It’s _my_ place you’re staying at, watch it. I might have an accident and set you on fire during your sleep,” Quentin said, unable to help the smirk that bloomed on his face when Quincy burst into laughter again.

“Jeez, Tiny, I _like_ you with a sense of humor.”

Quentin groaned, pulling into his parking garage. “I think I preferred when you called me Tin-Tin. You haven’t called me that since Mutter yelled at you for making fun of my height.”

Quincy smiled fondly at the memory, getting out of the car in tandem with Quentin.

“And yet,” Quincy hummed, pleased with his discovery as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his twin.

Quincy just barely stood higher than him. “I’m taller than you, still.”

Quentin scoffed. Quincy grinned, ruffling his hair before Quentin could duck out of the way.

“Why don’t you drink your milk, Tin?” He narrowly dodged the hand that came to swat his head.

  
  
  
  
  


“Your apartment’s nicer than mine,” Quincy said, a bit put out.

“Why does it look like it’s out of an ad? Where’s the lived-in feel? I-” Quentin tuned Quincy out, dumping his bags in the guest room and holding his daughter on his hip.

When he came back, Quincy was staring curiously at a table near the entryway, or rather, the pair of sunglasses that lay on top of it.  
  


“These are a bit… Bold, Tin-Tin.” He commented, reaching out for them. Quentin snatched them from the table before he could, hooking them in the collar of his sweater possessively. 

Quentin flashed Quincy a grin, stunning his twin with its luminosity. “They’re not mine.”

Quincy lit up, idly noting how Quentin had inherited their mother’s dimples when he had not. It had been so long since Quentin had smiled at him, he seemed to have forgotten. “Can we go visit Mutter later? I want her to meet this little scamp,”

Neither of the brother commented on their father.

Quentin checked his phone. “Yes, I have time for that.”

Quincy watched curiously as Quentin then swiped to his text messages, telling “Tony” that he had left his sunglasses.

“Who’s Tony?”

Quentin hissed, backing away from the sudden proximity. “Mind your own business,” He snapped moodily. Quincy relaxed. Now _that_ was the Quentin he knew.

He wiggled his brows at Quentin lecherously. To his surprise, he earned a dark blush that crept up Quentin’s pale neck to the tips of his ears.

“It’s… not like… that?” Quentin tried to sound sure and monotone as he always did, but there was a hesitance to his words that made Quincy whoop with joy.

“So Tin-Tin’s got a little crush, then? Does Mutter know? Oh, she’d be thrilled-”

“Shut up!” Quentin growled, flicking him in the forehead.

Quincy laughed loudly, startling his baby into a wail.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, your Onkel Quenty just has a little crush,” He teased, soothing the baby into hiccups.

“You never told me her name,” Quentin said, peering down at the tiny creature in his brother’s arms, fighting the irrational urge to wipe the tear-streaked cheeks.

“Her name’s Misty. Misty Beck.”

Quentin’s lips quirked up, seeing her mirror his grin. “She has Mutter’s dimples.”

Quincy hummed in agreement. “Yours, too.”

Quentin ignored it. “Mutter will love her.”

Quincy smiled a bit sadly. “I know.”

  
  
  


Quentin knocked on the door, smiling when his mother opened it with a greeting.

Quentin stepped to the side, jerking a thumb to his car. “Quincy is here to visit.”

His mother grinned widely, though her expression quickly morphed to one of shock when she glimpsed Quincy with a bundle in his arms.

“My dear, is that a…”

“Yes.” Quentin answered.

Quentin walked over, kissing his mother on the cheek. “Hi, Mutter. I’ve been meaning to introduce you…” He lifted Misty forward, and the baby yawned, but didn’t wake.

“You have a _baby?”_ She breathed out, reverently taking the baby into her arms with a well-practiced tenderness.

Quentin and Quincy shared a grin at her jubilant expression.

“She’s beautiful,” She whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of Misty’s head.

Quincy beamed proudly, but the moment was interrupted.

“Emily, who’s at the door?”

All three winced, and Quentin and Quincy shared a whispered argument.

“It’s only for a small amount of time. If he sees Misty, he’s going to kill you!”

Quincy scowled, but ran off to strap Misty into her car seat, hesitantly leaving her in the car for the time being..

What followed was a tense conversation with their father. No one mentioned the baby, knowing full well what would happen if the eldest Beck found out.

  
  
  


Quentin and Quincy were quiet during the drive home.

“Does he hurt her?” Quincy whispered, brows set in turmoil. Misty snoozed calmly beside him.

Quentin’s knuckles were white on his steering wheel. “No. I- she is too docile to earn his…”

“...abuse.” The two said together.

“How is he living so well while _she_ lives like that?” Quincy was thinking to the worn-in dresses that their mother wore, which, save for the green sweater Quentin had given her, was what her entire wardrobe consisted of.

“When I give them the check, I guess he keeps most if not all of it for himself.” Quentin estimated angrily.

Quincy was pensive, a rare look for the chattery man who dropped out of college and was the figurative ‘black sheep’ of the Becks, or at least to their father. Emily had too much love to be disappointed in any of her children.

“We should help her.” Quincy murmured. Quentin nodded.

“I’ve been thinking of a plan, but it needs more thought.”

Quincy leaned forward, blue eyes glinting with the prospect of a challenge.

“Can we brainstorm tomorrow?”

Quentin shook his head. “I have work tomorrow.”

Quincy shrugged. “Take me with you.”

Quentin glared at him. “I can’t just _bring_ you to work. And what about your baby?”

“I- she won’t make a mess or anything, don’t worry. Don’t you want to spend the day with your favorite _bruder?_ What about your little niece? _”_ Quincy teased, drawing out the last word in a plea.

“You’re my only brother...” Quentin rolled his eyes. Quincy grinned, crossing his arms and smirking smugly. “You didn’t say anything about Misty.”

Silence fell, with the only sounds being the soft breaths of Misty, and Quentin finally let out a growl and a ‘fine.’ Quincy immediately cheered up.

  
  



	2. Tony and the Twin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin seriously regrets bringing this baby to his workplace. Misty was a peach in comparison.

Quentin shot off a text towards Mike that they would have company, despite knowing full well that Mike had no intention of showing up.

The two Becks and a baby Beck spent the car ride reciting rules, or at least one of them was.

“Exposed wires. What do we do?”

Quincy groaned, sinking into his seat. “Tin-Tin, I’m hardly  _ five.  _ You don’t need to baby me.”

Quentin sighed. “You haven’t signed anything, so if you or your kid get injured under my watch in my lab, guess whose fault it is?”

Quincy huffed. “I’m not gonna get injured. Not all of us forgot to drink milk as children. I’ve got strong bones.”

Quentin rested his head against the steering wheel for a second, counting to three to prevent himself from swerving off the road in an attempt to commit murder and insurance fraud.  _ There’s a baby in the back,  _ he reminded himself.

“Maybe I’ll be lucky and your teeth will be knocked out, somehow.” He muttered. 

Quincy laughed, flashing him a grin with his stupid, straight, white teeth. “You’re just jealous because Mutter says I’ve got a winning smile.”

If the tires swerved against asphalt for a second longer than they should’ve, neither said a thing.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Bathroom here, the break room’s a few floors down. Tell me if you want to grab a coffee or something, I don’t want you getting lost.”

“Aw, didn’t think you cared, Tiny.”

Quentin subconsciously murmured a “don’t call me that” before running through some simulations. 

“So this is what those nifty degrees were for?” Quincy looked stunned and impressed, and pride swelled like a balloon in Quentin’s chest. Misty babbled excitedly in his arms, chubby arms waving to catch the illusions.

He was quiet for a moment, unable to stop his mouth from asking Quincy a question.

“Wanna see my fav- my best work?”

Quincy nodded, stumbling back when Berlin flared to life around him. The temperature dropped, the air becoming a little crisper.

“One day, I’ll show Mutter.” Quentin admitted. Quincy was speechless, moving forward to inspect every rock and brick in the illusion.

Quentin felt proud, his ego inflating so fast that he felt light-headed.

“I can keep up some simulations to entertain you while I work. Tell me if you need something.”

Quincy nodded dumbly, still spinning in a slow circle to take in their surroundings.

Quentin heaved a sigh of relief, happy that Quincy wouldn’t make too much of a fuss. Maybe he had overreacted. Oddly enough, he was more worried about Quincy than the actual baby.

Quentin allowed an illusion to run for Quincy while he worked. Misty was snoozing away in a box. Quincy had given him an odd look when he revealed a sturdy box filled with soft, high-quality sweaters, but brushed away some lollipops and set Misty gently in the box.

“This feels wrong. These sweaters cost more than I make in a year.”

Quentin rolled his eyes, muttering something about starving musicians and turning back to complete some coding.

  
  
  
  


“I’m bored. Can we go do something?” Quentin cursed in alarm, sparks dancing on his skin from the open wire he had pulled out on accident.

Quentin glared at his brother, glancing to the clock and sighing. He had gotten one and a half hours of work in before Quincy grew bored.

“Let’s grab a coffee.” Quentin suggested, narrowing his eyes when Quincy picked up a lollipop that had been brushed to the side.

“What’s this? Candy?” Quincy unwrapped a butterscotch lollipop, sticking it in his mouth.

“What if those were poisoned, and you, like an idiot, just ate it without thinking?”

“But they’re not.”

Quentin huffed. “No, but you’re reckless.” 

“You should hold Misty. She likes you.” Quincy picked up Misty, offering her to Quentin.

Quentin complied, but a flush rose on his cheeks. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to hold her.”

Quincy shook his head. “She actually hates being held by most people. Since she was sleeping when Mom held her, she didn’t react.”

Quentin scowled, but shifted his arms to support Misty’s head. “Fine. I still think you’re a liar.”

Quincy shrugged, but followed Quentin out of the lab without complaining.

After dealing with a hyper-active Quincy in an elevator (yes, the view was nice, but there was no reason to leave smudges all over the glass), Quentin pointed at the door. “That’s the break room.”

Before they entered, Mike appeared, calling Quentin urgently. It was the first time Quentin had seen the man all day.

Quentin sighed, gesturing for Quincy to go into the break room while he talked with Mike, who gave him a suspicious look for holding a baby.

Quincy shrugged, walking in just as Mike started talking. “Whose baby is that? Nevermind. Look, Beck, I think I’ve got this virus, I- I don’t know why…”

  
  
  
  


Quincy stepped into the spacious break-room, pondering what life would be like with an office job. It didn’t suit him, that’s for sure.

He spotted a fancy coffee machine and made a beeline for it without noticing a woman enter.

“Beck? Is that you?” Susie eyed the back of somebody who was vaguely Quentin-shaped. The hair color was the same, plus, he had a lollipop in his left hand, so it had to be him, right? No one else had any lollipops.

Maybe-Beck turned around, and Susie choked on her words.

It was Beck, from the bridge of his nose to the cool blue of his eyes, but he was way more tan, his hair was messier, and there was a beard adorning his face, along with a grin with perfect teeth.

“Hey,” Tan-Beck greeted, looking her up and down. Susie felt a blush overcome her face, and she barely squeaked out a greeting. Was his voice raspier?

He laughed at her, running a free hand through his unstyled and windswept hair.

“You look… different?” Susie finally managed to say.

“Bad different?” He squinted at her, and Susie noticed smile lines near his eyes. Were those new? Not to mention the freckles!

“No!” She rushed out. “It’s just- you look really good with a beard, Quentin.”

He didn’t correct her on her address of him, and something like amusement glinted in his eyes.

What the hell happened to him?

“Really good, huh?” Quincy repeated, heavily amused with the situation. “Thanks. Good to know the ladies like it,” he quipped, shooting her a wink.

Susie was more flustered than she had ever been in her life. Did Quentin just  _ wink  _ at her?

The real Quentin entered the room quietly, pausing and surveying the situation. Quincy was smiling at Susie, who was incredibly pink.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, exasperation from dealing with Mike leaking into his tone. Whatever intimidation factors he had were dulled somewhat by the cherubic baby in his arms.

Susie turned, and confusion clouded her features, whirling around to look at Quincy, then back to Quentin.

“Who- if you- what? Is that a baby?”

Quentin sighed, listening to the uproarious laughter Quincy let out.

“Susie, this is my twin brother, Quincy. I apologize for any confusion. And yes, this is a baby.”

Susie opened and closed her mouth a few times, eyes darting between the two, then to the baby, before an even darker blush overtook her face.

“Baby? Twins?” She squeaked out.

“Yes, ma’am,” Quincy crooned from where he was leaning against the counter.

Quentin shot him a glare. “Leave her alone,” he commanded. Susie was too overwhelmed to deal with Quincy’s flirtatious nature. Unbeknownst to Quentin, she was also too overwhelmed to deal with Quentin defending her.

“Aw, I was having fun,” Quincy came up behind Susie, patting her on the head. Quentin huffed and grabbed Quincy’s wrist, dragging him away from Susie.

“I can’t take you  _ anywhere _ ,” Quentin admonished while dragging Quincy out of the room.

Quincy gave a full belly-laugh, clutching his stomach and throwing his head back. “Bye-bye,  _ Susie.”  _ He cooed, blowing her a kiss before the door shut.

Susie stared at the closed door, cheeks aflame.  _ Two  _ Becks… Quentin with a  _ baby.  _

Susie gulped and reached for the flask in her pocket, taking a sip to ease her mind.

  
  
  
  
  


“But I wanted coffee!” Quincy whined, gesturing to the lab exit like Quentin would let him out.

“You’re lucky it was just Susie. You could be filed for harassment!” Quentin scowled at the taller of the two before pushing him into a seat. Misty had woken up with a wail, fisting at Quentin’s sweater and screaming as babies did.

Quincy didn’t complain, only crossing his arms and angrily sucking on his butterscotch lollipop. “Food is in my backpack,” He said sourly. “I didn’t get my coffee, you can’t get your quiet.”

Quentin bared his teeth at Quincy and took his free hand to root around the backpack, finding a tupperware of something orange. He found a container with a baby spoon and scowled at Quincy, who was watching impassively. 

“Mom would be proud,” Quincy commented as Quentin set down Misty on Mike’s desk (as if he would risk dirtying his own work) and spoon fed her messily.

“She’s covered with food.” Quentin said once Misty was full and on her way to dozing off again.

Quentin finally took pity on him, finding a spare outfit for Misty in his dad-bag and changing her into it easily.

He set her in the sweater-box and turned pleading eyes toward Quentin. “Can you get me coffee now?”

“I’ll get you a coffee, just…  _ stay. Put.”  _ Quentin stressed before briskly (was he ever not brisk?) walking out.

Quincy blew a raspberry at his back, huffing and sliding down a bit in the chair, watching Misty’s tiny chest move up and down with her breaths.

A few minutes passed in boredom, but Quincy didn’t know if any of Quentin’s tech was dangerous, so he stayed put.

He was about to nod off when a vaguely familiar brunette burst into the room, chatting at a mile a minute.

“I think JARVIS is going through his rebellious teenage phase, Q. How am I supposed to make him see that I only want the best for- who are you?”

Quincy blinked owlishly in his most Quentin-esque manner, taking the lollipop from his mouth. “How many people are going to think I’m a different person because of my beard?”

Tony shook his head, absently giving the man a quick once-over. He looked like Q, blinked like Q, and acted almost exactly like Q, but it just wasn’t right. In his close inspection of the stranger, he failed to notice the baby snoozing in a box on Quentin’s desk.

“Okay, first of all,” Tony mused, walking closer to the seated man. Almost-Q watched him through lidded eyes, something that Q wouldn’t ever do. His m- that man had eyes like a hawk.

“Q didn’t have a beard yesterday.  _ You  _ have one, and as impressive as Q’s hair can be, it doesn’t grow that fast.” He circled the stranger, rubbing his chin in thought, oblivious to the roaming eyes.

“Second of all, you’re tan and- and you’ve got freckles. Q doesn’t, as much as I wish he did. Thirdly,” Tony snatched the lollipop from his hand.

“Q  _ hates  _ butterscotch.”

Quincy stared at him for a moment before grinning slyly. Tony noted that this man didn’t have a dimple on his cheek like Quentin did.

“You’re right. Clever, aren’t you?” He said flirtatiously. Tony was suddenly struck by how attractive the man was.

(He knew he only found him attractive because he looked like Q.)

“Quenty doesn’t like butterscotch, but…” Quincy leaned forward in his chair, taking the lollipop back with his mouth alone, winking at Tony, “I happen to enjoy it quite a lot.”

Unbidden, a warm flush decorated Tony’s ears and cheeks. He cleared his throat, trying not to focus on the man’s smile lines and the freckles that were spread down his neck- did they go lower?- and the way his eyes were staring through thick lashes up at Tony and-

“What are you  _ doing?” _ Quentin blurted out, narrowing his eyes at the sight before him, nearly dropping the coffee in his hand.

Both of them turned at the noise. Quentin walked over to them, moving close to them and pushing Quincy’s chair back, rolling it away with a squeak.

“Tony, Quincy, there will be none of  _ that  _ in this lab.” Quentin said curtly, almost harshly. Tony thought he was imagining it, he must have been, but was there a bit of  _ hurt  _ in Quentin’s voice?

The squeak of the chair woke up Misty, and Tony didn’t have time to yelp at the unexpected baby before Quentin rushed over in a panic.

“No, no, what do you want?”

Quincy watched dumbly at the sudden mother-hen that replaced his brother.

Quentin clicked his tongue, picking up the baby and holding her so that she was cuddling his chest. She hiccuped into his neck, nuzzling the bare skin there and leaving snot and tears.

“Call her pet names. She likes it.” Quincy suggested, moving to root around for a pacifier in the bag.

Quentin thought deeply, subconsciously bouncing Misty up and down and rubbing a circle into her back with hands normally used to flicking switches and typing on keyboards.

Pet names? He glanced over at Tony, who was still gaping, and was reminded of the names Tony had mentioned.

He bent his neck to curl around Misty better, thumb brushing the wisps of hair on the back of her head. “Shh, shh, honey, it’s alright. Don’t cry, go to sleep… sh, shh.”

Misty hiccuped again and snuggled further into Quentin’s chest and neck, little puffs of breath fanning out on his skin.

Quincy grinned at him. “You take after Mom, don’t you?”

Quentin didn’t reply, still cradling Misty and swaying unconsciously to rock her.

“Time out!” Tony shouted, earning the glares of both of the Becks. Quentin gave him a look, and Tony gulped quieting down.

“Time out,” he repeated quietly, waving his hands at the odd scene in front of him. 

“Who- Quentin, this is the brother you told me about? And the baby- how the fu- the fudge are you good with babies? That’s bullsh- poop. I’m very,  _ very confused.” _

Quentin sighed, passing the baby to Quincy, who rocked her expertly and walked a little ways away, walking in a circle and humming to his baby.

Quentin felt his lips twitch, hearing the tune that their mother used to sing to them as children.

“That is my brother, Quincy. We’re twins. The baby is my.. niece, Misty.” He said, sounding like he was just discovering it as well.

“You’re surprisingly good with her.” Tony commented, wondering if Quentin would call him ‘honey’ if he started crying on the spot.

“I’m surprised, too.” Quentin said, confusion clear in his pinched expression. Tony idly plotted drawing freckles on Quentin’s face, if only to see how adorable he would be.

Quentin coughed into his hand and turned fully to Tony, tilting his head. “So what did you want?”

Tony grinned and started up his rant about JARVIS, hyper-aware of the way Quentin’s eyes would flicker to his niece, who admittedly was a little cute.

Not cuter than Tony, though, who by right of friendship should have been coddled like that  _ weeks  _ ago.

Quentin was still really stiff about physical contact, though. Tony glanced toward his twin, who was kissing his daughter on the head and cuddling her.

Maybe he could get the next best thing? The man seemed into him, and it wasn’t like Quentin was interested at all. Tony didn’t know if Quentin could be interested in  _ anyone. _

He gave Quincy a considering look, and Quentin watched the way Tony checked out his brother, something tightening in his chest.

“You’re about to ask if Quincy’s single.” He guessed, faking an exasperated eye-roll when Tony shrugged sheepishly. He rolled his eyes so Tony wouldn’t see them look down in disappointment. The feeling in his chest grew.

Quincy sighed. “He is, to my knowledge.” He sounded annoyed, and he knew it.

Tony winced. Did he say something wrong? He gulped and changed the subject.

“So, your niece. You sounded confused yourself when you said it.”

Quentin noticed the subject change, but let it slide. “Yes. I only found out about her existence a day ago.”

Tony recalled the easy way he handled her. “You like her?”

Quentin shifted uneasily, muttering out a small, “it’s too soon to know.”

Tony scoffed. “No it’s not, you called her  _ honey  _ for crying out loud. You don’t just meet someone and call them honey a day later.” He sounded childishly bitter.

Quentin blinked. “Would.. would you like me to call you honey, then?”

Tony paused, and his ears turned red before he muttered a small, “well now you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You spent it already. The novelty’s gone.”

Quentin rolled his eyes at the petulant tone Tony had adopted.

“Any other names you want, then?”

Tony brightened. “I’ll get back to you on that… bring a little list so we can have variety.”

Quentin and Tony descended into a fit of bickering, complete with swatting and in Tony’s case, blowing raspberries.

  
  
  
  
  


Quincy watched his brother interact with “Tony,” completely mystified. Apparently the Tony who left those bold glasses at Quentin’s place was  _ Tony Stark? _

Misty snored softly in his arms, and he didn’t stop rocking her, pondering how different Quentin seemed around Tony.

It made him feel bad for flirting with Tony, knowing Quenty had a crush on the man. He didn’t blame him, since Tony was cute, and there were probably millions of people trying to get into those oddly tight, expensive pants.

He hummed thoughtfully, recalling how ruffled Quentin seemed when he walked in on them. Having grown up with the grumpy man, Quincy liked to think he knew Quentin fairly well.

When they were children, Quentin had wanted a small plush dinosaur toy, which Quincy decided to take for himself. He had gone up to their mother, telling Quentin that he wished to have his own dinosaur toy

Quentin had been confused and close to tears, but didn’t say anything until Quincy tugged on their mother’s sleeves. The shorter boy raced over, toy in hand, adamant on buying it, but not having the confidence to do so before he realized Quentin was going to take it from him.

Quincy nodded to himself, deciding that Tony could be the metaphorical dinosaur this time, since Quentin would never admit his feelings.

He sighed, brushing Misty’s hair back. He had to do  _ everything  _ for Quentin, didn't he?

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what? people read this??? crazy.
> 
> this fic helps me get over my writer's block for Queer Eye: Quentin Beck edition, so it's mostly self-indulgence.
> 
> For reference, Quentin is clean shaven and his hair is relatively neat. Quincy basically looks like a messier Mysterio from FFH.
> 
> also if I mixed up Quincy and Quentin PLEASE LET ME KNOW, thanks
> 
> thanks for reading, y'all.


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